His friends detained him so late that he could not get out to the cottage at Hampstead that night, or he certainly would have followed Hannah to her home, and asked the reason of what he had seen and heard. He could hardly understand why, but he disliked the idea of her selling her services to the public, exceedingly. It was no matter to him that she was dowdily dressed, and known as “Mrs. Brown”;--he could not bear to think that she placed herself under such an obligation to strangers--that she should belong, as it were, to the public, when he wanted to have her entirely as his own. His meditations that night revealed the truth to him. He was so fascinated by Hannah Ricardo, that he wished to marry her, and shield her for ever from the slights and obligations of the world. No one could have been more amazed than himself, when he had arrived at this conclusion. He had been a student of men and manners, but he had never lit on anything more incomprehensible than this before. He wanted to marry Hannah Stubbs--he, who had so opposed the same idea in his friend. Ricardo had formed the wish, in order to keep Leonora by his side, whilst he, Von Steinberg, desired the same thing solely for Hannah. He longed to possess this woman, with her overwhelming personality--her clumsy movements--her broad smile--her arch looks and witching eyes--for herself alone, and himself entirely. He tried to recall her, as she used to be, but failed to do so. She seemed to have cast aside her chrysalis shell and emerged (in mind at least) a butterfly! And yet outwardly, there was no difference! Where did the fascination lie? He could not determine, but felt that it was there, and that in her was contained the happiness of his future life. He rose early, and was at the Hampstead cottage by eleven o’clock. His first words to her were those of reproach. “Hannah! how could you do this thing without letting me know? It nearly paralysed me to meet you at the Rosters last night in the capacity of a public medium. What would dear old Ricardo say, if he could know it?” “Then he should have left me enough to exist upon,” replied Hannah, “Charlotte and I can’t live on dry bread--even if we got enough of that!” “But I have asked you again and again, in case of need, to apply to me. What is the use of being your friend, if I may not have the pleasure of helping you out of your difficulties? You deprive me of one of the great privileges of friendship! And to sit when you are ill too! It is so unlike you to turn faint! You must have been sadly overworking yourself! Are you quite recovered this morning?” “Quite, thank you,” replied Hannah, reservedly--reservedly on purpose to make him speak out. “I am glad of that,” said Von Steinberg, “but to return to our subject;--I trust you do not intend to follow up Spiritualism as a means of livelihood for the future!” Hannah lay back in her chair, lazily, and fixed her large, full eyes upon him. “Why not?” she demanded.